


a purrfect mediator

by adrestiandove



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrestiandove/pseuds/adrestiandove
Summary: Felix and Jeritza awkwardly bond a little over cats and swords. Written for this wholesome kink meme prompt: https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=186844#cmt186844
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Jeritza von Hrym
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	a purrfect mediator

Felix squats on the packed dirt of the training grounds, wiping his face where the sweat has plastered strands of dark hair to his forehead. The sun hangs low in the sky, but he still has more time to train before it gets dark. Just a moment to catch his breath—he won't waste more than that.

No one else wants to train on a Saturday. Their loss, he thinks; a couple of days of idleness is all it takes to start getting soft. And so, aside from Felix, the grounds are empty.

Or at least he _thought_ the grounds were empty. He feels a light nudge on his backside and tenses up like a coiled spring, turning on the ball of a crouched foot and gripping the hilt of his sword—

It's a cat.

For a beat, the creature's ears twitch in annoyance at Felix's sudden movement. But it's only a moment later that Felix is forgiven, and the cat affectionately headbutts a bent knee.

"Idiot," Felix mutters, not sure if he's addressing himself or the cat. He drops his sword to scratch behind a velvety ear. It looks just like the breed of mousers they have back home—white with big patches of gray-brown stripes, eyes golden-brown like his own.

Felix is trying to decide whether the reminder of home is nostalgic or irritating when a long, dark shadow falls alongside him. Far, far too tall to be another cat. And then, tossed onto to shadowed ground, appears a glistening bit of fish meat.

The cat immediately abandons Felix's attentions for the new morsel. Felix stands, picking up his sword as he turns to face the shadow's source.

Far, _far_ too tall is right—Jeritza, the sword instructor, towers before him. Or at least, he used to be the sword instructor. Now they're just fellow soldiers in Edelgard's army. Or is "The Death Knight" a rank of its own? It's a stupid title, either way. Like the name of a melodramatic villain from some dumb fairy tale, or one of Mercie's trashy ghost stories.

Felix narrows his eyes, hating that he has to tilt his head upwards to make eye contact. No one should have the right to be that tall. "You need something?"

Jeritza slowly blinks—oddly catlike himself. "I have come to the training grounds... to train," comes his low drawl.

Felix rests his hands on the pommel of his sword, letting the blade's tip pierce the dirt under the slight weight. "Bringing food to some mangy stray is 'training'?"

"Is petting that 'mangy stray' what _you_ consider training?"

Felix bristles, too proud to let himself feel sheepish. A tense moment hangs in the air as the two swordsmen stare each other down.

A faint purr breaks through the silence. The cat weaves between their legs, rumbling and squinting happily, and lets out a pleased _mrraow!_

"Heh... I guess this thing's got us both slacking off," Felix concedes, barely above a mumble. Still holding his sword upright in the dirt, he bends down to pet the cat again with his other hand. To his surprise, Jeritza crouches next to him, folding up all that excessive height until he too is hunched over to pet the cat's sleek (and not at all mangy, in truth) fur. The silence in the air grows more comfortable with the cat purring between them, delighted to have the attention of multiple hands.

"That blade..." Jeritza murmurs. He continues petting the cat absentmindedly, but his gaze seems to have been caught by Felix's sword, now at eye level.

"Folded steel," Felix says. "Faerghus's finest. It's tempered in an extract found only in the coldest reaches of Sreng's desert."

Jeritza makes a low, thoughtful hum. "Few smiths in all of Fódlan know how to properly work such steel. Their technique is often but a pale imitation of proper Wootz steel... for that, I have encountered nothing finer than Almyran blades."

Felix gives a nod towards the scabbard hanging at Jeritza's side. "And that?"

Jeritza pulls himself upright—Felix quickly following suit, for he won't stand for being towered over even more than necessary—and unsheathes his sword, running long fingers along the flat of the blade with a gentleness that almost seems... fond, tender. "The very same."

"We ought to test the techniques against each other," Felix suggests. "I could use a good spar."

"Yes... a fine idea," Jeritza says. The corner of his mouth quirks ever-so-slightly upwards in what might almost be a smile.

The cat at their feet meows, and all are in agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> I did some brief research into different types of sword steel for (hopefully) believable Sword Nerd Talk; Felix's is based on Bulat steel, used in Russia and the Mongolian empire, while Jeritza's is Damascus steel (another name for Wootz steel—it's a real thing, not just an item in the game! who knew!) which originated in south Asia & the middle east, and has for centuries been poorly imitated by Europeans to whom the real technique is long lost.
> 
> The cat, of course, is the Fraldarius Whitehair.


End file.
